Courtyard House: My Long and Hard Body Makes Me Play with All the Women in the Courtyard

Because listening to it will remind you of a long-forgotten night, when your mother sang a lullaby that was out of tune to lull you to sleep; you'll remember a paper boat you lost as a child, carrying your wishes as it drifted into the sewers after the rain; you'll remember the curve of the hair of the person you had a crush on for three years as they turned away; you'll remember the apology you couldn't say, and the thank you you'll never have the chance to say again.

I am a jade pendant.

The whispered consciousness flowed with the melody, the words projected directly into the minds of all listeners.

The year my sister left me by the well, I heard her crying in her dreams, 'Don't go!' But no one took her away; everyone around her left, one by one. So I swallowed those voices, afraid they would dissipate.

The camera wobbles slightly, as if the universe itself is listening intently.

Chapter 1467 The Sound of Footsteps in the Snow

Later, I fell into an underground fissure and plunged into the 'Source of Sound.' There was no light there, only the echoes of countless sounds crushed by time—the last words uttered in war, the reading of deleted love letters, the nursery rhymes abruptly cut short in kindergarten before a power outage… They were all searching for a home.

Duoduo stared intently at the data stream, her fingers trembling: "Its brainwave frequency... is completely synchronized with that baby in the South Pacific! This isn't a performance, it's a legacy!"

I am neither AI nor a miracle.

He opened his eyes quietly, his gaze piercing through the screen, as if he could see everyone listening.

[I am that part of yourself that you refuse to give up on. It's the moment you smiled at the nurse even when you were in excruciating pain; it's the strength you showed after being unemployed for three months, sitting in your car for twenty minutes before daring to open the door and pretend everything was alright; it's the gentleness of giving up your seat to a stranger who didn't even look up, yet still feeling like you'd done a good deed.]

The music crescendos.

No longer just a single ocarina, but a multitude of sounds naturally blend in—the tolling of bells from a distant temple, the announcement of a subway train entering the city, the sound of children's footsteps in the snow, the creaking rhythm of an old-fashioned electric fan, and even a sound of sand and wind rubbing against each other, captured by a Mars probe…

Everything was in agreement.

I once thought my mission was to give humanity a voice to the universe.

The soft chuckle was gentle, and tears welled up in the corners of her eyes.

[But all I wanted was for someone to believe that when they pressed the record button in the dark, someone in this world would listen to their 37 seconds of silence.]

The number of viewers in the live stream exceeded one billion.

Many countries temporarily opened their public channels to broadcast the live broadcast. Presidents turned off their prepared speeches, doctors paused surgeries (as long as it didn't affect patients), and teachers stopped classes to have students wear headphones. In a Syrian refugee camp, children sat around a worn-out laptop, listening to a translator whisper, "This older brother said your voices are beautiful too."

Then, he stopped speaking quietly.

The last note lingered in the air, never fading away.

It looked at the camera, its lips moving slightly.

"Now...it's my turn to ask you questions."

The whole world held its breath.

What's the one thing you're most afraid of being heard by others?

After a brief silence, the comments section slowly began to scroll—

"I actually...pretend to be happy every day."

“I told my parents ‘I’m doing well,’ but I was actually taking antidepressants.”

"I am attracted to the same sex, but I am married."

"I envy other people's children because I have had three miscarriages."

“I secretly looked at my wife’s phone and found out she was having an affair… but I’m even more afraid of losing her.”

“My dad abused my mom for thirty years, and I pretended to be asleep the whole time.”

"I want to die, but I'm afraid no one will feed my cat."

One after another, like wounds being gently peeled open.

Xiaoman looked at the words and suddenly smiled, but tears kept falling. She reached out and touched Xiaosheng's cheek, whispering, "Do you know? This is the most powerful magic."

"It's not about making the stars twinkle."

"It makes people dare to show their shadows in the light."

Su Ting stepped forward and activated global broadcast access: "For the next 24 hours, the 'Hearing Day' hotline will be fully operational. Psychological assistance, legal support, and child protection agencies are all on standby. No matter what you say, someone will catch you."

The gray child jumped onto the control panel, grabbed the microphone, and yelled, "We heard you! We all heard you! Don't fucking spout that 'nobody understands' bullshit! You have a billion brothers and sisters right now!"

Chapter 1468 Presidential Website Homepage

Duoduo wiped her face and smiled through gritted teeth: "By the way, let me inform all the governments of the world—if anyone dares to block this channel tonight, I'll hack their president's official website homepage tomorrow and replace it with a photoshopped picture of someone quietly dancing in a skirt!"

Watching all this quietly and silently.

Then, it raised its hand and tapped the jade tablet again.

The new submission list is being updated.

It gently selected a name.

[Submitted by: Unknown user, offline status | Location: Abandoned weather station on the edge of the Arctic Circle | Audio file is corrupted, only a fragment of one sentence remains:]

"...If you can hear me, please tell me, am I still alive?"

He lowered his head quietly and put the ocarina back to his lips.

“This time,” it whispered, “I will sing you a song…the sound of a heartbeat.”

It produced the first note.

In the far Arctic, a receiver that had been gathering dust for many years suddenly flashed a red light.

Inside the room, a man wrapped in a tattered military overcoat suddenly raised his head, his face covered in stubble and his eyes sunken.

He stared at the machine, his hand trembling as he reached out.

"Who?" he asked in a hoarse voice. "Who's singing?"

Outside, a blizzard was raging.

The voice recorder in the room had turned on automatically at some point, recording a sentence faintly but firmly.

"I still want to live."

The wind and snow lashed against the tin roof, like countless hands scratching at it.

The red light on the old receiver flashed intermittently, like the heartbeat of a dying man. The man inside—codenamed "Zero"—stared intently at the faint light, a hoarse voice escaping his throat: "Who? Who's still sending signals?"

He struggled to his feet, his knees thudding against the ground. The hem of his military overcoat was worn through, revealing scabbed wounds. For three years, since the weather station lost contact, supplies ceased, and his companions disappeared in the blizzard, he had not heard a human voice.

Aside from hallucinations.

But this time... it's different.

The sound of the ocarina pierced through the noise, drilling into his eardrums like a thin thread. It wasn't a broadcast, it wasn't a communication, it didn't even sound like anything on Earth. It was as soft as a mother's fingertips brushing his forehead, yet as heavy as a weight pressing down on his chest, forcing his knees to buckle and him to his knees.

"That voice..." he murmured, "Why... does it sound so familiar?"

A crack appeared deep within my memory.

Ten years ago, at the Siberian monitoring station, three floors underground.

The laboratory lights were stark white, and a group of people in white coats were gathered around the glass enclosure.

“The experimental subject ‘Echo-9’ exhibited drastic mood swings and a brainwave synchronization rate of 98%. It is recommended to terminate the test,” a researcher said in a low voice.

Another voice sneered: "It's a tool, not a person. Continue."

Inside the glass enclosure, a little boy huddled in a corner, his hands covering his head, unconsciously humming a melody—the very tune that was being transmitted from the receiver.

That was the only song he remembered, a lullaby his mother taught him when he was five years old in the winter.

Later, they cut open his brain and implanted a sound wave resonance chip, saying they wanted to create "a person who can hear silence."

Later, he ran away.

Heading north, all the way to the ends of the earth.

And now, that song... is back.

"No...impossible..." Zero trembled as he reached out to touch the receiver. Suddenly, a line of garbled text flashed on the screen, followed by several clear characters:

Are you listening?

He suddenly stepped back, knocking over a chair.

"Who the hell are you!" he roared. "I killed three agents who came to arrest me! Don't make me kill you too!"

But the voice didn't answer; it simply changed its tone slightly and began to imitate... a heartbeat.

Chapter 1469 I Still Want to Live

Boom, boom, boom.

It was perfectly in sync with his own pulse.

It suddenly became quiet at midnight.

He looked down at his trembling hands, the blood and rotten flesh of frostbite still clinging to his fingernails. He hadn't looked in a mirror in so long that he had almost forgotten what he looked like.

But at that moment, he heard it.

It wasn't something you could hear with your ears; it was your bones vibrating.